


on your mark, get set, bake

by sunlightdances (glowinghorizons)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Flirting, Fluff, Unresolved Romantic Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-03
Updated: 2018-12-03
Packaged: 2019-09-06 10:57:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16831264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glowinghorizons/pseuds/sunlightdances
Summary: Dean discovers your guilty pleasure TV show.





	on your mark, get set, bake

“Are you– are you _crying_?” Dean’s voice comes from your open doorway, startling you.

“What?” You sit upright in bed, the blanket falling from your shoulders. “No.”

“Yes, you are,” He points at you. “What’s wrong?”

You mumble something under your breath and his brow furrows as he takes a few steps tentatively into the room.

“You’ll have to speak up.” He says gently. He and Sam are practically still strangers, letting you stay with them out of the goodness of their hearts after you got caught in a hunt you were absolutely not prepared for.

Just until you get back on your feet, that’s what you keep telling yourself.

But– they’ve been so _nice_. Dean does stuff like this - checks on you without making you feel smothered and offering a quick smile and a joke here and there. Sam does the same, but Dean seems to be– around more? You think he’s secretly a mother hen.

“You’re going to make fun of me.” You tell him.

He shrugs. “Maybe, but I do that anyway.”

Meeting no resistance from you, he sits down on the edge of your bed, curiously looking at your laptop. “Oh, my god.” He starts to laugh, almost falling over, and you glare.

“I told you!”

“I’m sorry,” He tries to get out through his laughter, holding up his hand in appeasement. “I just can’t help it. You’re crying at a baking show.”

Your eyes widen innocently. “This isn’t just _any_ baking show!”

He watches you for a minute. “Okay, move over.”

You grin at him, quickly making room for him in your mess of blankets and pillows. He settles in after a few seconds and raises his eyebrows at you. You press play.

.

.

.

“Well, shit,” Dean whispers, and you snort, lifting your head from where it had been rested on the pillow close to Dean. “How’s she going to recover from that? Her pizza literally fell into the oven.”

“Think positively, Winchester.”

You reached for the laptop, pausing the show, and Dean stretched, the hem of his t-shirt riding up just enough for you to get a good view of his toned stomach. You feel flushed.

“I’m going to get some snacks. Want anything?”

You smile softly at him and tilt your head to the side, watching as he scratches the back of his neck.

“What?”

“Nothing.” You grin, “I just can’t believe you’re going to watch this entire show with me.”

He rolls his eyes. “I can’t watch TV now?”

“I just didn’t peg you for the reality show type.”

“Yeah?” He comes a little closer, rocking forward on his heels. “Well, you’ve only known me for two months, so I’ll let that one slide.”

You feel a little bit of a thrill at the way he’s looking at you, and you feel like you’re standing at the edge of a cliff.

“I have an idea,” he says, ending the loaded silence. “Come on.” He wiggles his fingers at you and after a moment’s hesitation, you take his hand.

.

.

.

“I can’t believe you dragged me away from a Netflix binge for this.” Sam says tiredly, leaning his head into his hand as he sits at the kitchen table.

“It’s _important_ –” You protest, stopping to pour cake batter into a tin.

“How is this even going to work? We only have one oven.”

“Yeah, but one of us could take it out too early or something. It’s about how it _tastes_ , Sam.”

Dean has an amused smile on his face as he watches the two of you go back and forth. It was Dean’s idea to do a technical bake-style competition in the middle of the night, and of course you needed a taste tester.

“Don’t act like you’re not happy to eat cake, Sammy.” Dean chides, opening the oven and sliding his tin inside.

For the next 35 minutes, you sit there, Dean and Sam bickering back and forth, and you trying not to make it obvious as you peer into the oven to see if your cake is baking well enough. You enjoy watching Sam and Dean take cracks at each other, both of them trying to act irritated even though you can tell they’re in good moods.

You’re still kind of floored that you’re even here, with them, starting to become part of their little family. You’re even more floored that Dean is here in the kitchen with you, baking a _cake_. You feel like you dreamed this up.

You seen Dean looking at you out of the corner of your eye, and when you catch his gaze, there’s something soft and unexpected there. It sends a little thrill zipping through you, and you look away quickly, clearing your throat.

“Well, I don’t know about you, Winchester, but my recipe is almost done. And it’ll be perfect.”

He scoffs. “Never take a cake out early, Katie. Rookie mistake.”

“Tell that to the icing you’re going to try to slather on that cake while it’s still too hot.” You say, grabbing the oven mitts before he can. You take your tins out carefully, giving them a tap before nodding to yourself, going over to the large refrigerator in the back of the room.

“Oh, are you making buttercream now? It’s the best part.” Sam says, and he rolls his eyes when you give him a wide-eyed look. “What? I know things.”

Dean’s cake comes out next, and the two of you are silent as you start to assemble your decorations. He lets you use the mixer while he makes his buttercream by hand, even though you grumble about it.

Finally, you set two completed cakes down in front of Sam, both decorated. Yours is definitely more elaborate, but you’ve tasted Dean’s cooking before. If he can bake, too, you’re in trouble.

Dean’s hand on your cheek startles you, and you look at him with wide eyes.

“Sorry-” He says, “You had some flour…” He trails off, a light blush tingeing his cheeks.

“If you two would quit flirting for a minute, I’m going to eat this.” Sam interrupts, but he’s grinning, and you quickly grab a knife, handing it to him.

“Here!” You say brightly, trying to forget the way Dean’s hand felt against your skin. It’s all so stupid. You don’t need to get a crush on either of these guys. Dean just loves to get you riled up. That’s all it is. Really.

Sam takes his sweet time eating a few bites of each slice. Really. He takes _forever_.

“Oh, for the love of–” Dean mutters and Sam holds up a hand, a serious look on his face.

“Wait, wait. I’ve got it.” He slides your plate towards the front of the table. “Sorry, Dean. This one is the winner.”

“Ha!” You say, delighted. “What do I win?”

“We literally did this for bragging rights. You don’t win anything,” Dean grumbles, but it’s good-natured.

“I’ll be taking this,” Sam says, grabbing the plate with your slice on it, “And going back to my room.” He squeezes your shoulder as he goes by, and your face feels warm with happiness.

“I suppose fair is fair,” Dean says, smiling softly at you. “You really enjoy this, don’t you?” He asks, helping you start to clean up the mess on the countertop.

You nod. “My Mom and I used to bake.”

Dean nods. “And she…”

“She’s not dead.” You tell him. “Just– we don’t– she doesn’t approve of my life, now. It’s too hard for her after what happened to my Dad.” You frown. “I’m not sure she even knows I’m alive.”

A silence falls over the both of you as you work together to clean up. After a few minutes you grab two forks, handing one to Dean, pushing the rest of your cake towards him and pulling his cake towards you.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Dean says quietly. He eats a bite of your cake, pausing as he swallows. “Okay, _really_ glad.” He says, grinning.

“Yours is good too,” You say, not sure how to respond to his first comment. You’re quiet for a second before adding, “And I’m thankful for you two giving me a place to stay. I don’t know what I would have done–”

“You would have figured it out. You’re smart. But you’re welcome, all the same.”

You hold his gaze for a few seconds, _maybe someday_ ringing throughout your head. Right now, you’re just content to be here with him, sharing a little piece of your life with him. When Tuesday nights watching Bake Off become your _thing_ with Dean Winchester, you don’t even tease him about it a little. It means more to you than you’ll ever be able to put into words.


End file.
